


Corridor Conversations

by SmilinStar



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 11:35:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10244330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmilinStar/pseuds/SmilinStar
Summary: “They don’t trust me anymore.” And then so softly, she almost doesn’t hear him, “I don’t trust me.”





	

**\-----**

 

“So this is your new hiding place,” she says.

Arms folded across her chest, she presses her shoulder into the wall and stares down at the man sitting there on the ground. His lanky frame looks impossibly small, curled up as he is. Legs bent at the knees and drawn up against his chest, arms wrapped loosely around them and head bowed – it sends a painful jolt through her. A flash of a memory inside a torturous maze of a mind, and the wide, frightened eyes that had stared back at her as if seeing a monster.

He’s never looked at her like that before.

_(Her hand in his, a twirl on the dance floor, “For a monster, you dance quite gracefully, Miss Lance”)._

Thankfully, the eyes that look back at her now as he lifts his head are not the same.

“Rather a poor hiding place, don’t you think?” he counters, and then adds with a little mock indignance, “And who says I’m hiding?”

Sara makes a show of looking around, up and down the length of the abandoned corridor of the Waverider and smirks, answers back with no room for argument, “You’re hiding.”

Rip shakes his head and looks away, stretching his legs out in front of him.

She takes another two steps, leans back against the wall and slides down to join him on the cold metal ground.

He’s a mass of tension beside her, tightly coiled and ready to spring away from her at any moment. She doesn’t take it personally.

Rip’s not the same Rip they remember. Having one’s mind invaded and so thoroughly violated would leave most a crumbling mess on the floor, ready to be swept away and lost forever in the vastness of time and space. But Rip Hunter is a far stronger man than most. Not that he believes it.

Lucky he has her then. Has them.

She gently bumps her shoulder against his, “What’s going on Captain?”

His lips twist, and it isn’t a smile.

“What?” she asks, “What’s that face for?”

“I’m no Captain, Miss – sorry, _Captain_ Lance.”

“Oh is that what this is about?” she teases, “Jealous? You can have it back, you know? Captaincy. It’s not all that it’s cracked up to be. Too much work. And god, trying to herd this hopeless lot into doing anything? Impossible. No, I’m good. It’s all yours.” She pats his leg, “I’d rather be making trouble than keeping the peace.”

This time there is a smile on his lips, it’s fleeting and disappears faster than she can blink, “You love being Captain.”

It’s a statement. A simple truth, with no hint of a tease or accusation.

She swallows, the grin disappearing.

Because she does. She really truly does. But this isn’t her ship. This isn’t her mission and she can’t see a Waverider without the man in his long brown trench coat, armed with sarcasm and a gun, and a bursting heart the Time Masters couldn’t beat down, at its helm.

“It’s your ship,” she says.

He nods, eyes dropping to his hands. “It’s your team.”

Sara shakes her head, ready to argue, but then he’s turning to look at her. Actually look at her, gaze holding hers and not flinching away. “You’ve done an amazing job, Sara.”

And maybe it’s the fact he’s staring back at her with something akin to wonder in his bright green eyes, but the open admiration has her looking away.

“Well,” she shrugs, “My father’s a Captain, didn’t you know? Learnt from the best.”

“That you did.”

“Rip?” she asks after a moment, turning to find him with his head tilted back up against the wall, eyes closed and shuttered away, “Why are you really sitting out here?”

_And not with the rest of the team_ , is what she doesn’t add, but she knows he’s heard it anyway. Because it’s been obvious to every single one of them that he’s been avoiding them.

He sighs, eyes opening to fix on some point on the opposite wall.

“They don’t trust me anymore.” And then so softly, she almost doesn’t hear him, “I don’t trust me.”

“It wasn’t you,” she repeats.

“Doesn’t change what I did.” His eyes shift back towards her, flickering from her neck to her face and then back away to the wall.

And she knows just what it is that’s haunting him.

She sighs, hand reaching out to grab hold of his arm as she turns on her side, “Listen to me, Rip. It wasn’t you. I know that. The team knows that. You _have to_ know that too. And if it wasn’t clear before, and you need me to say it-”

“Sara-”

“No, listen, if you need me to say it, I will. _I forgive you_.”

He shakes his head.

And something twists in her chest then. She can’t have this man who already carries enough guilt to last centuries to be weighed down by it any more. He’s too close to falling over that edge and slipping out of her grasp, and she didn’t fight this hard to save him for that to happen, and so she reaches out. Lifts her hand to his cheek and forces him to face her.

His eye are sunken and red, and so tired and lost, and that twist in her chest is more akin to a throbbing pain pulsing behind her ribcage.

_(Another hand, another cheek, “You are one of the strongest people I have ever met, Sara”)._

“I forgive you Rip,” she says again, as her eyes hold his, “But you have to forgive yourself.”

He stares back at her, and she’s not sure what to think as the haze clears, and his eyes regain their focus solely on her;

“Like you’ve forgiven yourself?”

It takes a moment to register, her fingers reflexively clenching before dropping away from his jaw.

Four words, and just like that, she’s reliving the pain of not being able to save Laurel, the guilt of not killing the man who was responsible, the guilt of all the blood that _is_ on her hands.

Her face must give her away, as remorse fills his. He shakes his head, hand hovering over hers, “I’m sorry, Sara. I didn’t mean to-”

“No,” she interrupts him, “No, you’re right. I need to learn to forgive myself too. Except-”

“Easier said than done,” he offers.

She’s never really thought about it – how _alike_ they are.

“Just another thing to share, huh?”

He raises his brow in question. And she supposes she could run over those scars again, but maybe it’s been enough soul-baring for one day. And so she raises the corners of her mouth into a grin and says instead, as if he should have known all along what she meant, “The Waverider.”

He shakes his head, “You’re not still on about the captaincy, are you?”

“Yep,” she nods, “You can’t argue with me.”

_(An outstretched hand, a firm, unwavering voice, “Because you’re Captain Rip Hunter” and it’s as simple as that)._

He looks down at her, holds her gaze and finally relents with an exasperated sigh, “No I don’t suppose I can.”

The smile on her face is a little smug, and more than a little relieved. “So?”

“So,” he answers her, “Co-captains then.”

“Co-captains,” she tests the word on her tongue, “I can live with that.”

“Good,” he huffs out in a breath that could almost pass for laughter.

She’ll take it.

She settles back, leans in a little closer before knocking her boot against his, “Nice to have you back, Captain Hunter.”

And this time, she swears the corner of his lips have turned themselves up into a hard-earned smile as he knocks his foot back against hers, “It’s good to be home, Captain Lance.”

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t know what I’m doing here, but I love this ship (like out of nowhere, hello new show, hello new ship), and I wanted to write something. So, yep. I’m still learning the characters and their voices, so this is whatever it is. Hope you enjoyed it anyway.


End file.
